Armistice
by Beth Pryor
Summary: A post-series one-shot featuring some present day Reela over Memorial Day weekend. Especially for all those who just couldn't bare them not being together.


**Title:** Armistice

**Author:** Beth Pryor

**Rating:** K

**Summary:** One-shot post-series Reela goodness set over Memorial Day weekend in a time much like this one.

**Disclaimer:** ER belongs to the good folks who created it and put it on the air. I'm just borrowing their characters.

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**Armistice**

Temporary suspension of fighting that is not necessarily the end of the war; a truce

A hand touched Ray's back. He turned and nearly smacked into a gray head that reached to about his waist. The woman to whom it belonged, wielding the largest straw bag he thought he'd ever seen, thrust a small American flag into his hand and smiled a sad, knowing smile.

"Thank you for your service, Son." She patted his hand as she dabbed her eyes. "All of you brave young men and women," she continued.

Ray felt the heat creeping into his face. Yes, it was 93 degrees today, but why in the world had he worn shorts in D.C. on Memorial Day? He mumbled something incomprehensible about thanking her for the flag as he backed away from her and her group. He scanned the crowd for Neela, and catching sight of her near the Louisiana pillar, her camera poised for a photo. He pushed his way through the sea of people toward her. She snapped her photo and lowered the camera just as he arrived by her side. Sensing his anxious energy, she placed a steadying hand on his arm and rubbed lightly.

"You okay?" She inquired. She scanned the immediate area. "There's a bench just through there if you need a break." They had been walking quite a bit today, and Ray had waffled about which prosthetics to wear before settling on a fairly standard, everyday model.

"No. I just want to get out of here."

"Alright." She followed him through the Atlantic Pavilion to their left. He kept walking, headed into the shade of the trees lining the Reflecting Pool, moving away from the monument and toward the Lincoln Memorial. When he'd put about 100 yards between him and the throng of tourists, he turned left toward the water. Neela, almost running to keep up with him, skidded to a stop by the water's edge and his side. "Ray, what is it?"

He handed her the little flag without turning toward her. "That lady thanked me for my service and handed me this." He finally turned. "I shouldn't have come here today. Or ever."

Neela knew Ray loved his work with Veteran's Administration, but he did not relish the extreme embarrassment and what he described as "the incompetence" he felt when others assumed that his injuries were combat-related. He often spent time with "wounded warriors," so the assumption was understandable but never welcome.

"Let's keep going to the Lincoln Memorial," she suggested.

"Maybe we should just head back over to the Smithsonian. The museums." Ray countered. "Or the Portrait Gallery."

Neela nodded as they started back the way they had just come. She knew better than to try to placate him but kicked herself mentally for suggesting that they do this today. Not only was the mob on the Mall suffocating, but there were innumerable groups of wounded servicemen and women and veterans in every direction she looked. She had a feeling that the lady at the World War II memorial wouldn't be the only one who brought attention to Ray. She'd wanted him to come to D.C. with her for her conference that started in two days, and they'd decided to make a long weekend of it. While she loved that they were finally spending some time together, she hated the thought of causing him stress or embarrassment. He worked so hard to keep his past where it belonged – in the past.

They walked hand in hand back toward the Washington Monument. As they approached the Mall, they scanned the sea of people and tents set up along the way. Neela could see that they ranged from patriotic to protesters. Ray pointed across the expanse to an assembly set up around 12th Street but on the opposite side from where they stood.

"I think that's where my guys will be."

Neela squeezed his hand. "You sure?"

"Yeah." He swallowed hard. "I told them I'd stop by, and I really don't have a good reason not to."

"Um, okay."

He smiled at her. "You know what I mean."

"I do."

They walked toward the group of young men and women collected under a colorful tent with multiple banners. Neela rarely had the chance to accompany Ray to work-related events, but she knew how much he enjoyed what he was doing. Right now, he was in the process of helping set up an inpatient rehab unit at the New Orleans V.A. Medical Center while overseeing the outpatient clinic in Baton Rouge. His work invigorated him, she assumed in the same way being in the OR did for her. Several of his former and current patients had planned the trip to D.C. to meet up with a national group of wounded soldiers and veterans. When they found out that Ray would be in town with Neela, they'd insisted that he stop by their post.

Ray was still a good 20 yards from the font of the tent when two guys broke away from the group and began jogging toward him. The shorter, dark-haired one moved a bit faster than the taller blonde with a pronounced limp. Ray raised his free hand to them and picked up the pace to meet them halfway. They enveloped him in handshakes and embraces, pulling him away from Neela and into the tent with the others. Ray reached back for her, but she waved him off and followed a few steps behind.

By the time Neela caught up to him a few moments later, he was already being introduced around. The younger men spoke to and about him with such admiration. She loved and cherished the smile on his face and the easy set of his shoulders. This really was his element. She was so focused on Ray that she initially didn't hear the question that silenced the gathering. The inquisitive party cleared his throat and posed it again, louder this time as Ray looked toward him.

"Where did you serve, Sir?"

Neela understood perfectly. She'd seen it with Michael and his men. These guys looked at Ray the exact same way. They deferred to him exactly they way they would an officer, especially one with whom they'd seen action.

Ray shook his head curtly. "Oh, no. I'm a civilian. Met up with these guys once they got back home."

The tall blonde, Nathan, jumped in quickly. "Uh, Doc. That's not nearly the whole story." He looked to the others in their little group to explain. "Ray's a rehab doc in Louisiana. He's been working to get the V.A. programs up and running there for the past few years. When I got back, they told me I'd either be here or maybe Houston for about a year. My wife was about to have a baby." He looked over toward a petite blonde at the edge of the crowd. "I felt like I had to choose between my family and rehab." He put his hand on Ray's shoulder. "Ray made it possible for Jim and me and a bunch of other guys to get what we needed at home. I really don't know what I'd have done without him."

Ray shook his head again. "Nah, Nate. It's my job, but Neela here," he turned toward her, "Her husband was killed in Iraq. That's part of the reason we're here today."

Neela stumbled, startled to have suddenly become part of the conversation, toward Ray. "Uh, oh, yes. My _first_ husband."

Nathan jumped on this. "Wait, Doc are you telling me you finally married this girl?"

Ray blushed, not believing how badly he'd managed to bury the lead. "Yeah, I guess I forgot to mention it. Last weekend, actually."

"So why are you two down here in the heat and not holed up in some swanky suite?" Nathan pressed.

This time Neela answered. "Well, we actually just headed in that direction."

They said their goodbyes, Nathan again expressing his thanks to Ray. Jim echoed his sentiment as Nathan's wife, holding a miniature copy of her husband on her hip, took Ray's hand and squeezed it.

"Dr. Barnett, thank you so much for your service," she whispered. Although the words felt different this time, Ray began to protest. But before he could formulate an answer, Neela moved into his eye line. He smiled as he twisted the silver band on his ring finger and gave the younger woman just the smallest nod in reply.


End file.
